Fatal Wandering
by cosmo17
Summary: A grave new threat has appeared in the Capital Wasteland. Only one man can stop it, at the risk of losing everything. Rated M now for violence and some language.
1. The New Threat

**A/n: This is my first Fallout fic. Reviews are welcome please! **

"Shut up and get on the ground, now!"

"Your makin' a mistake..."

"Shut up!"

Bam!

Lucas Simms fell hard to the ground as the butt of the laser rifle smashed across his jaw. During the night, men had broken into the town, locking it down. These men had killed their sniper before he even saw them, then tore their very own deputy weld apart. Simms had expected them to head to the armory, but they didn't. Clearly they weren't raiders, if they were they would have killed who they could and looted the town. Instead, they had broken into every home in the town and dragged all of their inhabitants to the center of town, gathered around the bomb.

There were eight men, clad in fearsome battle armor made of leather and metal. They held many weapons. Each carried his own laser rifle, engraved with strange symbols and painted on with chipped red paint. They held strange knives, serrated and shining. The hilts were the interesting part. They appeared to be made of bone, with long carvings along their length. The metal of the knives appeared to have been welded into the bone, and their was a hint of beautiful structure to them. They wore black spikes on their fingers and sniper rifles on their backs. Sunglasses covered their eyes, with nothing on their shaved heads. The most terrifying part was their necklaces and bracelets. Hundreds of human teeth hung from them, torn straight from the mouths of their victims.

"What do you want?" Simms asked, as calmly as he could.

"Helpers," the head man snarled.

The leader was the meanest looking of the group. He wore three full necklaces full of human teeth, and six bracelets. His own teeth were unusually white, and it looked as if someone had sharpened them for him.

"For what?"

The leader grinned nastily.

"All of you fine folk are going to carry that bomb for us."

The Citadel was the like the heart of the wasteland. A wastelander could see its lights shining from Grayditch, or so they said. Now, it had more men, more defenses, and more supplies than one could count. In the courtyard, barrels of Aqua Pura were stacked high, amidst piles of weapons. Recruits were always training, using the live firing ranges. Some initiated mock hand to hand combat, a handful were being trained in the arts of power armor, and some were taking apart and putting weapons back together. Inside was a sort of organized chaos. Tables were piled over with rad-x, rad-away, med-x and stimpaks. Everywhere computers hummed and whirred, little lights and beeps coming from them. This was the laboratory. In the center, men and women in red robes were working on a huge robot, half finished and gleaming in the industrial lights.

In the back of the Citadel, a meeting was in place. The men and women wore power armor, except for three men. One was old, with a white beard and wrinkled, tired face and blue robes. Another wore red robes, he was balding and held the same weary features as the first man, and looked a bit stressed. Then, there was another. He didn't wear power armor, but instead a blue uniform, fitted with leather straps and a single shoulder pad. There was a faded 101 printed on the back. His face was not tired, or stressed. His features were young, his brown hair clean cut and his blue eyes sparkling. He looked eccentric and young, very out of place amongst the power armored soldiers.

The young man half listened, half played with a small bit of string hanging from his sleeve. The talk was all very boring anyways. It was a routine, once a week meeting, a check in of sorts. Then, the man heard his name.

"Albert, are you listening?"

The question came from a blonde haired woman in power armor, her piercing eyes staring right at him.

"Yeah, you were saying that the Rangers should assist the Brotherhood. I'm with you," said Albert, a bit embarrassed.

The woman grinned.

"You want to ask them for us? You're good friends with Reilly aren't you?"

"Sure, but they're mercs. I doubt they'd be overly excited about joining the most powerful army in the wastes."

The meeting lasted a bit longer before the old man dismissed everyone. The soldiers piled out. Albert went into the hall to find his dog, Dogmeat, sitting patiently at the foot of the stairs. Albert chuckled and called him and Dogmeat jumped to attention, happily trotting to his master's side.

"Good boy, let's go."

The two of them headed out, when Albert heard his name.

"Hey, Albert!"

It was Star Paladin Cross. Cross had a history with Albert's family. She had escorted he and his father to Megaton when he was just a year old. Albert held a great respect for this woman, as without her, he and his father may have been killed in the wasteland.

"What's up?"

"It's Megaton. Something's happened over there. They think it's raiders."

Albert's heart dropped. Megaton was his home. The people there were his neighbors, his friends. The Brotherhood was like his family, but Megaton was full of good people. He had once been hired to detonate the atomic bomb in the town center, but refused. In turn, he had deactivated the bomb and killed the man who had enlisted him, throwing him off of Tenpenny Tower. Albert would go to any length to help whomever he could.

"Guess I'm going to Megaton."


	2. Mysterious Happenings

**A/n: Here's the second chapter! Now it gets a bit more interesting...  
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The rocks were unforgiving, especially with a C-23 Megaton bomb pressing down on the backs of the ones walking across them. The citizens of Megaton were tired, sweating, and had lost their will to speak against their captors. The only thing keeping them going was basic human survival instinct. A short while ago, as the settlers had lifted the one-ton explosive from the irradiated puddle it lay in, more of these armed men had swarmed the town. The destroyed what they could, and used the blood of a brahmin to draw strange symbols and messages on the walls. They had checked the town and taken only a handful of grenades that they had found in the armory.

They led the settlers, the bomb in their arms, out of the town. They were greeted with around twenty more of the attackers. The leader of the small group had spoken in hushed tones to them and the twenty others had set off to the east. Before they had gone, Lucas Simms had caught a few words. He was sure he heard explosives, fort, and kill. Every other second the leader had glanced at the Megaton settlers. Then the group had left, sneering and joking to each other, spitting at the shoes of the settlers. One had gotten close to Lucy West, his breath smelled of rotted meat.

"Aren't you a pretty thing," the man had said, grinning.

Andy Stahl had spoken up, taking a brave stand and growling at the man.

"Get the fuck away from her!"

The man had laughed and jabbed him in the ribs hard, causing him to momentarily let go of the bomb. Then they left with a parting word to the leader, shaking his hand and telling him they would bring the device to the town, whatever that meant.

Now, it was the small group of cruel, horrifying men. These men did not care about the settlers. Even the children, Maggy and Hardin, were forced to assist in carrying the bomb. They had made some progress. They had come to Big Town, where the citizens had locked themselves in their homes. Billy Creel spoke abruptly.

"Let us rest, please! The children need water, I beg you..."

The leader of the group cut him off,

"And allow us to be caught? No. Our goal is the Minefield to the Northeast. The real work begins when we arrive there," he grinned, then spat in Creel's face.

Billy grunted and blinked, turning his head. The leader just laughed heartily.

"Pick up the pace, let's go!"

At that moment, Confessor Cronwell let go of the bomb. The Megaton settlers struggled to grip the slippery metal shell as the weight shifted, digging their heels into the ground. Cronwell pointed at the leader, silent but threatening.

"What is it freak-show?" the leader hissed, grinning at the show of defiance.

"What you are doing is wrong. Atom guides us along our path, and you seek to dirty that path. That bomb is our guiding light. I shall not assist you anymore."

Cronwell finished, and sat on the ground, firmly showing that he would not participate anymore. The leader of the gang laughed hysterically, and the others joined in. The leader then drew a rusty pair of plyers from his belt. He came close to the old man, then stopped.

"Join your friends, and carry the fuckin' bomb, now.."

"I refuse!" replied Cronwell, "this is not the true path of Atom."

"I was hoping you'd say that," the leader said, smiling widely, revealing his sharp teeth.

He grabbed Cronwell's chin and forced his mouth open, working the plyers to the back of his mouth. He stopped abruptly and removed the pliers.

"But why should I have all the fun, eh? You, Sheriff. I want his back molar. Now," he said, rounding on Lucas Simms. He thrust the pliers at Simms' chest, and he slowly let go of the bomb.

"I... can't-" Simms' voice quivered and trailed off.

The leader simply smiled.

"Do it, or I take every last tooth from your mouth as you writhe on the ground in agony."

The Sheriff finally took the pliers. The leader of the gang then took a small razor from his belt and held it out.

"Every minute you waste, I will cut a fingertip off. Do it now!"

Lucas Simms held his breath, looking into the eyes of Confessor Cronwell. Those sad, grey eyes, that pleaded with him, teased him, tortured him. Simms raised the pliers...

**Albert** crawled out of the rusty grate at the sewer waystation north of Grayditch, helping Dogmeat up the ladder. They walked outside, and caught a glimpse of the jagged metal walls of Megaton in the distance, jutting awkwardly on the wasteland horizon. Dogmeat whined at the sight of the town. He could always tell when something was wrong, and had done so more times than Albert could count. It had saved his life again and again. But now, as the two grew nearer to the town, even Albert knew that something bad was happening. It hung in the air, a foreboding presence that would make most wastelanders turn and run as fast as they could in the other direction. But Albert pressed on, Dogmeat at his heels.

They had reached the town. Just outside the gate, a heap of metal lay on the ground, sparks shooting from several gaping holes. Albert walked to it, only to see the Deputy Weld's pitiful, broken face staring blankly back at him. Albert shook his head, then looked forward. The gate was pushed open, and everything was dark. Nobody was out, the town seemed... dead. Standing in the entryway, Albert felt a liquid dripping on his shoulder. He glanced over to see dark red blood on his suit. Looking up, he saw the source of the blood, dripping from the high sniper perch at the top of the gate. Stockholm, the town guard, was dead, hanging halfway over the railing, blood dripping from the bullet wound in his head. Albert shuddered and stepped aside, then continued into the town.

It was the strangest sight he had ever seen. At the town center was a puddle. Just that, a puddle. The bomb was missing. As if someone had came in and carried it away. This was strange, as well as the condition of the town. Albert searched for any useful evidence, and found that someone had smashed in the door of the armory. Strangely, almost nothing was missing. Nobody was in the town. Absolutely nobody. Albert had been scared before, at many of his experiences in the wastes, but this was the first time he had ever felt completely terrified. Albert had taken on Super Mutant Behemoths, the Enclave, raiders and slavers, he had explored dark vaults full of insane people, become a slave in the Pitt, traverse the whole of Point Lookout and even taken down the Alien forces of Mothership Zeta, but for some reason, this really terrified him. An entire civilization had disappeared, an atomic bomb gone as well, and there was no explanation. All so fast, and right under his, and the Brotherhood of Steel's noses.

Albert sat down, his head spinning. He was vaguely aware of Dogmeat licking his face, but he pushed him away, trying to think. What use was an atomic bomb to someone, if it had been disarmed? Who took it and why, and where could they have gone? Who killed Stockholm, the Deputy Weld, and smashed up the town? Who, who, who? That was Albert's most prominent thought. The other was why? Why did they take the people of Megaton with them, why hadn't they taken any of the weapons in the armory, and why had the written this goddamn gibberish on the walls?

Gibberish?

Albert stood, his head suddenly clear, his only focus on figuring out what the symbols could mean. The writing looked familiar, but not by any means decipherable. He brought up the language translator on his pip-boy, searching for anything that looked familiar. A second later, he found it. The symbols were traditional Chinese. Albert worked diligently, only stopping once to give Dogmeat a slice of Brahmin steak, which he happily devoured. Twenty minutes of this difficult translation, and it was there on his pip-boy.

_"The Reavers light will burn again, for all who follow the path will be rewarded in eternal warmth, as instruments to our lord, we shall cleanse His blessed Earth, as our forefathers did before."_

** A/n: Reviews are welcome, and now I would like to thank my first two reviewers! Yay! :D**

**AnthonyS: First review! Thanks, haha I tried to make Albert seem young compared to all the others in the room. The story will pick up and grow more interesting, dundundun! **

**ThisCrazyCat: Thanks man! Of course, we will find out who they are, but there may be a bit more to it than that ;) Always an adventure out in the wastes haha.  
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	3. Explosive Situation

**A/n: Sorry it took a bit to update. Been working and school and stuff, so I'm pressed for time! Enjoy! :)**

Lucas Simms paused, staring at the pliers in his hand, knowing what he had to do. Confessor Cronwell was silent, though his expression said that every fiber of his being was begging Simms not to comply with this man's hideous request. Simms raised the pliers and the leader chuckled, drawing his knife. At that moment, Simms swung the pliers hard, connecting with the jaw of the leader. He cried out in shock, swinging his knife. The Megaton settlers were shocked, but didn't move, for the sake of their lives. After all, the rest of the men held laser rifles to their heads. The rest of the armed squad watched silently as the leader quickly cut Simms' arm, who fell to the ground, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Radscorpion venom," the leader growled savagely.

"I'll take the goddamned tooth myself. But you..." the leader took his knife and cut Simms several times, earning screams of pain in response.

"You will suffer."

When it was done, the leader wiped the blood from his mouth and directed the Megaton settlers to the Northeast. Minefield was close, and then they would be free. The leader had joked a bit, saying that it was some adventure, and it was disappointing that the sheriff was not able to participate in their 'little game.' Everyone held a new fear for the men. They had dipped their knives in radscorpion venom, and nobody wanted to be cut.

The people of Megaton were shocked when they saw the town. It was full of people. The ghost town of Minefield was full of people, in heavy blast armor. They were scanning the ground in every direction, and at the center of the town lay an enormous pile of disarmed explosives. Thousands of mines, piled high, so many it looked as if it could blow open the door to a vault. Next to them was a huge prewar vehicle. It had a compartment on the back, and large, treaded tires.

"Load the nuke onto that platform," the leader said, directing the settlers to the vehicle. The settlers guided the bomb onto the platform, which closed up around it. Several heavily armored men chained it in.

"Now you will carry more for us. Grab a sack and load as many mines as possible into them." The leader began tossing burlap sacks to the tired, worn out settlers.

The settlers groaned wearily, and Maggie began to cry. Billy Creel attempted to comfort her, but was pushed aside by the leader.

"What's wrong little one?" he cooed, leaning down to meet her gaze.

"T-tired and th-thirsty," she sobbed, her dried lips cracking at the very words.

"You know, I once went four days without water. I was nearly dead, but I survived by drinking the blood of a mole rat that had happened upon my camp. It wasn't pretty, but I survived. So will you. Only another day, or feel free to take a sip from a puddle. Only if you want to be a ghoul that is," the leader said, standing and grinning.

Maggie continued sobbing, and Billy looked horrified.

"How dare you! She's a child, she's suffer-" The leader slammed his fist into Billy's face, breaking his nose.

Satisfied with the silence as Billy picked up a sack and began to carelessly thrust land mines into it, he made an announcement.

"I'm afraid this is where we part ways. Feel free to leave your comments about our experience with your new supervisor, Mr. Law. He will be escorting you to our next objective. After that, a well deserved break for all." He finished, smiling, and turned, boarding the nuke carrier a few yards away.

It started with a rumble that shook the dirt below their feet, and bright headlights shined out of it. It was nearly twilight already. The carrier rumbled off, towards the northwest. After it had left the town, smashing clean through a barricade of stacked cars, an enormous man approached them. He wore no shirt, but held several grenade belts, with as many as fifty grenades strapped to him. His head was shaved and his teeth were crooked and yellow, with beady little black eyes poking out of his head. His muscles were huge, and he wore camouflage pants, which held a gleaming machete, and several pistols. He grinned widely and awkwardly, shoving a settler to the ground hard as he walked up to the group.

"Call me Mr. Law. I'm the leader now, so step to it! We got some fuckin' explosives to carry," he growled, then laughed throatily.

This would be hell.

Albert loaded his hunting rifle. The message on the wall was clear enough, if one looked at it correctly. The message sounded quite religious, and foreboding. The group was called the Reavers, or at least, a variation of them. They spoke of the Great War, calling it a cleansing, and that they wished to repeat that event. Albert had dealt with psycopaths before, but this was a bit extreme. The Reavers wished to use explosives, most prominently the Megaton bomb, to 'cleanse the Earth.' Albert knew this would be interesting.

He had radioed in to Scribe Rothchild, who was running through the data on the Reaver group now. The whole situation was strange, and quite terrifying. While the Enclave had wished to clean up the Wasteland in the harshest way, they didn't intend to blow it all up a second time. If the Reaver's could succeed, there would be no wasteland left. Of course, they couldn't re-destroy the entire world, but that wouldn't stop a cult from trying, if their beliefs were strong enough. So now, with bullets in his guns, Albert waited. It was nearly fifteen minutes before Rothchild responded, the old ham radio in Albert's Megaton House buzzing.

"I'm here. Go ahead," Albert said.

Rothchild's voice came in relatively clear, static occasionally finding its way in.

"Ah yes, the Reavers are a highly religious group. They worship technology as a god, any form is highly valued. It would appear our group is a detachment of the original Reavers, worshiping only explosives. I've found several journal entries of wastelanders in the Western Commonwealth, Kansas in particular."

"Kansas? An origin point?"

"Perhaps. Kansas City would be my best guess, though my records show that it was a direct target in the Great War."

"What have you got on this detachment?

"I have several shocking entries, talk of a merciless, cruel group. They enjoy the torture and slaughter of human life, and seem to view themselves as instruments of their gods rather than humans. These men take the back molar of each victim they encounter, and they have an impressive kill count.

"My god. Anything else?"

"Ah, it would appear the Reaver detachment has a very profound hatred for 'a band of soldiers clad in power armor, who do not deserve the technology they so greedily take for themselves.' I believe they speak of the Brotherhood."

"Then we have a new enemy..." Albert thought about this, not daring to imagine what another war would be like. The Enclave and the Brotherhood's regional dispute had caused enough damage and cost enough lives. The last thing needed was a war with a cult of explosive loving maniacs.

"Is that it?"

"There are brief statements of something called 'Plutonius' and an unnamed vault. I also have several mentions of a feared figure known only as The Calculator. That's it."

"Damn. I'll find these men. Any idea where they could be headed, or where they're taking the Megaton settlers?"

"Isn't it clear? Where are the most explosives in the entire wasteland?" Rothchild huffed impatiently.

It suddenly became clear to Albert. He glanced at one of the twenty shiny Vault Tech Bobbleheads on the display stand. It held a small plastic minigun. He remembered exactly where he had found it, and it was clear as day where the Reavers were going.

Fort Constantine.

"Rothchild, put the Brotherhood on full alert. If they get into the Bomb Storage at Fort Constantine, they'll have a hundred nukes to detonate. I'm moving out."

**How is it so far? Plot development and all that ;) please review!**


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